


Off Balance

by magnessina



Series: Breathless [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnessina/pseuds/magnessina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt #1: Gold catches Belle as she falls from a step ladder in the library. It's the first time he's ever touched her in spite of weeks of longing (tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Balance

**Author's Note:**

> anonymousnerdgirl prompted: Gold catches Belle as she falls from a step ladder in the library. It's the first time he's ever touched her in spite of weeks of longing.

Mr Gold has never been so nervous about collecting rent before.

Ever.

It has been almost three weeks since those damn dreams started.

Yes, _dreams_. He would wake up almost every night nowadays, breathless, his head full of images of Miss French. Somehow, she was always the protagonist.

At first he was glad. Happy, even. He finally responded in a healthy way to a very beautiful woman; for the first time in his life he felt like a real, normal man.

The lack of interest in women had been truly a little bit worrying.

But those dreams keep happening and it is getting… _uncomfortable_ , for Mr Gold absolutely refuses to take matters into his own hands, so to speak. He hasn’t jacked off since he was a teenager so he will most certainly not do this now, when he is a respectable forty-three-year-old.

However, now that he is about to visit Miss French in her library, he so wishes he had.

He takes a deep breath before walking in into the building.

“Miss French?” he calls out when he doesn’t see her at the reception desk.

“In here,” she answers. Gold follows the sound of her voice and _holy hell this is going to be hard._

Uh, _difficult_ , that is.

He finds her without any problems; she’s sorting some books in the romance section.

The thing is, Miss French is standing on a step ladder.

Not a very high one, no.

But high _enough_ for her perky bum to appear right in front of his eyes.

She’s wearing a simple black shirt, that clings to her body in a very distracting way, and a puffy blood-red skirt, which is definitely way too short. Not that he’d ever complain about it. On the contrary, wearing a longer skirt could be considered a crime as far as Miss Belle’s legs are concerned.

“I, uh, came,” he _can’t_ remember the reason why he visited her here; not when he notices the pumps she’s wearing. “Rent. I came to collect rent,” Gold clears his throat.

“Oh, of course, Mr Gold,” she laughs a little. “Let me just finish with these and I will- _oh bloody hell_ ,” she squeals.

Many things are happening all at once.

She loses her balance as she turns around to put the book on the shelf.

He drops his cane.

She falls down.

He catches her instinctively.

His bad ankle screams in agony but he can’t even be bothered to pay any attention to its protests; not when he’s holding Belle in his arms and she’s so soft and warm and tiny and she smells _oh so beautifully_ and she’s smiling at him and she’s just so damn close.

Gold cannot help himself. He recalls his dreams; how she would gasp for air in these visions, how she would moan his name, how _good_ it felt to ravish her.

He can feel his trousers tightening and he nearly drops Belle himself.

“Looks like you’re my hero today, Mr Gold,” she murmurs, still beaming at him. He makes sure she’s standing up properly before he lets her go.

“Yes, looks like it,” he grumbles.

“I think I owe you a cup of coffee,” she tells Gold as she hands him the cane. Then she disappears. He follows her to her desk, quite awkwardly. 

“Whatever for?”

“You saved my life! I could’ve broken my neck or something!”

“I think you shouldn’t wear such shoes to work, Miss French. It’s dangerous,” Gold shrugs, hiding the envelope she gave him in his pocket.

“Yes, yes, thank you, but no. So, about that coffee?”

“I will, ah- it’s no matter. You don’t owe me anything, Miss French.”

“But-”

“Goodbye,” he bids before she can say anything else.

“We’re not done here,” she giggles.

_Cold shower._

_Please please please._


End file.
